DOI issue:
September 29, 1866
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16878#0144
[September 29, 1866.
PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
A CASUAL ACQUAINTANCE.
West-End Man (addressing, as he supposes, Intelligent Mechanic). “ Can you
Direct me to the Moorgate Street Station?’"
Seedy Party. “ Mo’rgate Street Station, Sir? Straight on, Sir, fust
i Turnin’ t’ the Right, and it’s just opposyte. And now, you’ve inter-
dooced the Subject, Sir, if you could Assist me with a Trifle, Sir,
; which I’ve ’ad nothin’ to Eat since last Friday-”
[West-End Man not having an answer ready, forks out, and exit.
INFORMATION FOR THE CRIMINAL CLASSES.
“ THESE BK BRAVE ORTS.”-Fluellen.
OR. TWO READINGS OF HISTORY—ARCHBI HOP MAN-
NING’S aND MR. PUNCH’S.
Safe, beyond power of banning,
Still rides St. Peter’s boat,
If bold words and stout Manning,
Can keep the craft afloat.
The Archbishop of Westminster,
Ex.-Anglican divine.
Proclaims St. Peter’s blest minster
An ark that from the brine
Of Revolution’s ocean
Shall the tiara save,
And for a world’s devotion
Yet lift it o’er the wave.
Let but our Manning get a
Due douche of myth and mystery
His eyes, with his beretta,
Blind to the facts of history,
He ’ll prove yon nought is meeter
Than that a throne be given,
To him who from St. Peter
Derives the keys of Heaven.
“ Holy Church stands on free stone :
A Crown its Head must wear :
This of the arch is key-stone
That props St. Peter’s chair.’1
If so, one needs must wonder
How Peter’s chair could stand.
The years that Papal thunder
Came from a subject’s hand.
Those centuries imperial
With Pope at Emperor’s side,
Earth’s moral and material
Dominion to divide.
Ages when crown and sceptre
And cross held each their sway:
And the Church wisely kept her
Her own great part to play.
Not meddling with men’s bodies,
^ When she their souls could rule ;
Nor leaving heights where God is,
To mount a monarch’s stool.
There has appeared a little narrative in the Daily Telegraph which concerns the
dangerous classes. It is to the effect that a riot nearly occurred the other day at
Chatham Convict Prison, in consequence of the change lately made in the quantity
and nature of the food supplied to the criminals confined there. One Sunday,
as soon as dinner was served, several of those rascals began to behave in a
mutinous manner. Before their example could be followed by the rest of the
villains, they were promptly seized, ironed, and hurried off to the solitary cells.
Finally, twelve of mem “ underwent corporal punishment,” and will be reduced
to a lower class, in which they will be curtailed of all the “ privileges ” which
they had “ enjoyed ” before.
It is desirable that thieves and ruffians should be let know that if they get into
gaol, they will there be restricted to diet which is unsatisfactory in quantity and
distasteful in quality, that, should they dare to murmur at their coarse and low
diet, they will be soundly flogged, and that, after having “ undergone corporal
punishment ” they will be reduced to a state more uncomfortable than that which
they previously “enjoyed”—in the sense in which invalids are said to “enjoy ill
health.” They will be deprived of even all the enjoyment compatible with hard
labour and hard fare. The paragraph whence the foregoing particulars are derived
should be reprinted for gratuitous distribution by the police, and it should be posted
about in all places where it is likely to meet the eyes of the rascalry. For the especial
benefit of the “R. & W. Imp.” class, the text should be accompanied with an illus-
tration, which would render it the more edifying—a woodcut representing the convict
mutineers “ undergoing corporal punishment.”
Telegrams (from Leicester Square).
The Statue is still here. He can’t get off his horse until he has a new pair of
legs ; or, at all events, one leg to go on with.
a
To him who looks at history
Without a Manning glass,
Nor in the name of mystery.
Writes himself down an ass,
One lesson seems fair written
From Constantine his day,
From big Rome to small Britain,
From Cadiz to Cathay,
That contact of the sceptre
The cross has but denied .
Sworn pupil turned preceptor
And strong man sunk to child.
Put strength in rule of weakness.
Shewn great things dwarf’d to small:
Mock Majesty, mock meekness,
God’s servant, Mammon’s thrall.
Romu.ii Nursery Rhyme.
Holy poly Popey,
Was he going to slope, eh ?
Come, stay at home.
Still Bishop of Rome,
Huly poly Popey.
Partridge’s Song in September. —“ . would / were*?
Bird”
Toilers of the See.—Underpaid Curates.
PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
A CASUAL ACQUAINTANCE.
West-End Man (addressing, as he supposes, Intelligent Mechanic). “ Can you
Direct me to the Moorgate Street Station?’"
Seedy Party. “ Mo’rgate Street Station, Sir? Straight on, Sir, fust
i Turnin’ t’ the Right, and it’s just opposyte. And now, you’ve inter-
dooced the Subject, Sir, if you could Assist me with a Trifle, Sir,
; which I’ve ’ad nothin’ to Eat since last Friday-”
[West-End Man not having an answer ready, forks out, and exit.
INFORMATION FOR THE CRIMINAL CLASSES.
“ THESE BK BRAVE ORTS.”-Fluellen.
OR. TWO READINGS OF HISTORY—ARCHBI HOP MAN-
NING’S aND MR. PUNCH’S.
Safe, beyond power of banning,
Still rides St. Peter’s boat,
If bold words and stout Manning,
Can keep the craft afloat.
The Archbishop of Westminster,
Ex.-Anglican divine.
Proclaims St. Peter’s blest minster
An ark that from the brine
Of Revolution’s ocean
Shall the tiara save,
And for a world’s devotion
Yet lift it o’er the wave.
Let but our Manning get a
Due douche of myth and mystery
His eyes, with his beretta,
Blind to the facts of history,
He ’ll prove yon nought is meeter
Than that a throne be given,
To him who from St. Peter
Derives the keys of Heaven.
“ Holy Church stands on free stone :
A Crown its Head must wear :
This of the arch is key-stone
That props St. Peter’s chair.’1
If so, one needs must wonder
How Peter’s chair could stand.
The years that Papal thunder
Came from a subject’s hand.
Those centuries imperial
With Pope at Emperor’s side,
Earth’s moral and material
Dominion to divide.
Ages when crown and sceptre
And cross held each their sway:
And the Church wisely kept her
Her own great part to play.
Not meddling with men’s bodies,
^ When she their souls could rule ;
Nor leaving heights where God is,
To mount a monarch’s stool.
There has appeared a little narrative in the Daily Telegraph which concerns the
dangerous classes. It is to the effect that a riot nearly occurred the other day at
Chatham Convict Prison, in consequence of the change lately made in the quantity
and nature of the food supplied to the criminals confined there. One Sunday,
as soon as dinner was served, several of those rascals began to behave in a
mutinous manner. Before their example could be followed by the rest of the
villains, they were promptly seized, ironed, and hurried off to the solitary cells.
Finally, twelve of mem “ underwent corporal punishment,” and will be reduced
to a lower class, in which they will be curtailed of all the “ privileges ” which
they had “ enjoyed ” before.
It is desirable that thieves and ruffians should be let know that if they get into
gaol, they will there be restricted to diet which is unsatisfactory in quantity and
distasteful in quality, that, should they dare to murmur at their coarse and low
diet, they will be soundly flogged, and that, after having “ undergone corporal
punishment ” they will be reduced to a state more uncomfortable than that which
they previously “enjoyed”—in the sense in which invalids are said to “enjoy ill
health.” They will be deprived of even all the enjoyment compatible with hard
labour and hard fare. The paragraph whence the foregoing particulars are derived
should be reprinted for gratuitous distribution by the police, and it should be posted
about in all places where it is likely to meet the eyes of the rascalry. For the especial
benefit of the “R. & W. Imp.” class, the text should be accompanied with an illus-
tration, which would render it the more edifying—a woodcut representing the convict
mutineers “ undergoing corporal punishment.”
Telegrams (from Leicester Square).
The Statue is still here. He can’t get off his horse until he has a new pair of
legs ; or, at all events, one leg to go on with.
a
To him who looks at history
Without a Manning glass,
Nor in the name of mystery.
Writes himself down an ass,
One lesson seems fair written
From Constantine his day,
From big Rome to small Britain,
From Cadiz to Cathay,
That contact of the sceptre
The cross has but denied .
Sworn pupil turned preceptor
And strong man sunk to child.
Put strength in rule of weakness.
Shewn great things dwarf’d to small:
Mock Majesty, mock meekness,
God’s servant, Mammon’s thrall.
Romu.ii Nursery Rhyme.
Holy poly Popey,
Was he going to slope, eh ?
Come, stay at home.
Still Bishop of Rome,
Huly poly Popey.
Partridge’s Song in September. —“ . would / were*?
Bird”
Toilers of the See.—Underpaid Curates.